


It's The Nose

by ashangel101010



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Armitage Hux Gives Him A Kiss, Artoo Deserves Better, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, David Bowie Tribute, First Kiss, Gen, Jedi Ben Solo, M/M, Scarred Armitage Hux, Young Armitage Hux, Young Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9579059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashangel101010/pseuds/ashangel101010
Summary: Fourteen-year-old Ben Solo just stole his uncle’s/Master’s X-wing and is heading as far into the Unknown Regions as he can. It’s not because the voice in his head keeps telling him to kill his classmates. It’s not because he’s wracked with guilt for wanting to do that.It’s because today is the Festival of Love on Naboo, and all he wants is not to spend the holiday at the Praxeum for the fourth year in a row. And so, once he basically runs out of fuel, he crashes at some dive bar on the outskirts of Chiss Space. There, he finds his soulmate. Or, at least, the pfassking weirdest ginger in the galaxy.And Artoo is unhappily along for the ride.





	

It’s The Nose

*

Suggested Theme:

Main Theme- Oh You Pretty Things by David Bowie

*

            Ben Solo has to admit that running away from the Jedi Praxeum in his uncle’s/Master’s stolen X-wing is not one of his smartest moves. He blames the Solo part of him for that. However, he would argue that running the pfassk away in this instance is for the best. For the Jedi in the long run.

But that’s not why he ran away.

He ran because today is the Festival of Love on Naboo; it’s the holiday in which lovers, and family, spend time together and exchange gifts. All he wanted was to go to the festival on Naboo and just let his Amidala side out. Wear a pretty costume and talk politics. But, no, his Master wouldn’t let him leave for the fourth year in a row!

So the Solo part of him decided to rebel, while the Skywalker part did the piloting.

But the X-wing eventually ran out of fuel, and Ben had to make a forced landing. Which nearly caused a previously _forcibly_ powered-off Artoo to come screeching to life.

[Ben, you little sithspit! When I tell Luke about-]

“I know, Artoo, I know. But, first, we need to hope that this……….bar has some fuel to spare.” He knows that this bar, if the sharp stink of booze was anything to go by, with an ancient, flashing neon-sign _Chu’la’s Den_ , would not have the fuel the X-wing needs. Or even fuel for any ships. However, he figures it’s better to head into this piss-poor bar that doesn’t even have pfassking door or a bouncer than listen to Artoo yelling at him for being a pain in his programming. Again.

[You are worse than Anakin!] Ben takes it as a compliment and rolls his eyes at the pissy droid. He’s slightly apprehensive about the design of the bar; this little waterhole looks like the odds and ends of haunted houses from holofilms, but not any of the rich mansions, no these are from the witches’ huts! But Ben steps through the hole and hopes that there isn’t a witch waiting inside to take his soul. Or at least the witch will take it quick enough so he won’t have to listen to Artoo’s angry beeps.

 _It’s even smaller on the inside!_ Ben practically groans. And, no, it’s not because everything seems smaller to him because of his growth spurt, which has made him almost as tall as his Master, or because he’s being _melodramatic_ as Threepio would put it.

The bar has only three tables that seem more suited for a five-year-old’s tea party than an actual bar and there are also three rows of hilariously tiny seats in front of a medium size stage. The stage has a tiny grand piano with normal-sized wireless amp and cherry-red electric guitar. The bar itself is small like it was made for a child, even with low-reaching stools and comically small bar taps, and Ben can’t help but wonder who is this bar for. _For Wisties? For kids? For Jawas-_

“Look at that, Akial, a customer!” _Oh sweet Vader! A Jawa and a g-ginger!_ Ben thinks as he hears/sees the ginger exclaim as they came through the back hole of the bar. The Jawa didn’t look like the typical Jawas that his Master described them. This Jawa didn’t have the brown or red hooded cloaks that only shows their glowing yellow eyes to a wizened rat face and it wasn’t pulling a sled of scrap metal through the sandy desert; this one has a wide-brimmed, gray hat with a long duster coat and wide, gray pants being held up with a worn belt. His face is mostly covered by the gray scarf around his neck and the hat, but Ben can still see the glowing yellow eyes.

“So came for the show? I bet you did!” The ginger waggles his thick ginger brows while having his thin, cracked lips curled into a foxy smile. The ginger is much taller than the odd Jawa and even taller than Ben; he’s 1.8 meters to Ben’s almost 1.7. He’s dressed in this green and white leotard with cherry-red, plastic boots. The leotard is opened in the front and shows off the pale, hairless, freckled chest of the ginger. His neck is long and thin and white like an Alderaanian swan. He has short, ginger hair that is in disarray on his head with some sheen like he freed it from gel confines. His bright-green eyes look at Ben like he’s someone important and not some kid who just ran away from his uncle.

“I-I-I just……my ship ran out of fuel. And Artoo and I had to land here…..’M sorry for getting your hopes up!” Ben splutters out and then looks away in embarrassment. _What the pfassk was that! You could’ve just gone with it, be smooth like an Amidala! Instead, you went Ben Solo on him! Oh Force why can’t I be cool like grand-_

“Don’t beat yourself up! I was just trying to be funny.” Ben flinches when he hears the guilt in the ginger’s voice. He opens his mouth to speak again but closes it; he shuts his eyes and tightens his fists, angry at himself for chickening out.

“Hey, hey, everything’s right as snow. Just don’t be so harsh on yourself. It’s not like you wanted your fuel to run out.” _Artoo would beg to differ_. Ben thinks, but then the rest of his thoughts flee when he feels one of the ginger’s hands touching his chin. His downcast eyes see a heart-pink hand with deep, ring-like impressions like someone melted chainmail on his hand. The red hand lifts up his chin.

“Force, you have a fantastic nose!” And Ben nearly dies from self-loathing.

“……………….A nose can’t be fantastic.” Ben manages to counter, feeling like his tongue swelled three sizes. The ginger brings his face forward; his breath smells like green tea and warm hugs.

“Oh. Yes. It. Can.” And Ben thinks the ginger will kiss the tip of his big nose. _Why else would someone be this close to me?_ He feels his knees begin to shake at the thought of being kissed by this ginger weirdo.

The ginger taps his cool forehead against Ben’s sweaty one and smiles.

“Keldabe.” The ginger whispers and then finally let go of him, causing Ben to take a step back and let loose the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The ginger decides to walk to the stage, while the Jawa goes to the bar and gets a blue bottle from underneath the bar table. He also brings forth a crystalline shot glass from one of his pockets. Ben sees ice-blue liquid tumble into the shot glass; he wonders if the Jawa will take off his scarf and drink with the eldritch lips that he must have. Instead, the Jawa taps the full shot glass against the bar’s opaque surface.

“Young man, come get your drink.” Ben feels like he’s been sucker-punched; he expected the Jawa to speak Jawaese or at least speak Basic with a heavy accent like his uncle and Han told him. _Woah, he speaks better Basic than me! He sounds……cultured and his voice is smooth as hourglass sand. And he’s offering me a drink? So is this like Uncle Lando’s Cloud City where they just look the other way in minors drinking? Shit, the ginger’s looking at me! Uh, I better get the drink so he doesn’t think I’m some kind of wimp!_

“……….Thank you?” Ben quietly says as he grabs his shot glass from the Jawa. He takes a small sip from the shot glass and nearly spits the drink back into the Jawa’s obscured face. _Shit! SHIT! Oh Force, it tastes so kriffing cold that it burns my mouth! What is this? Frozen Mustafar whiskey!?_

“Yeah, you’ll want to take your time with that. Chiss vodka is very….powerful. I remember the first time I had it, I took the entire shot down at once and then I fell to the floor and clutched my throat, feeling like I drank a pitcher of lava! Akial, I think you were the one that suggested of hosing my throat down with…..ale? Brandy?” The ginger’s brows furrows like he’s trying to get the memory back from all those years ago.

“Actually, it was Brendol that suggested ale, while Den wanted to use brandy. I used whiskey on you instead, brought you back to life. You still owe me a bottle of Nabooian whiskey!” Akial the Jawa playfully taps his right hand against the counter. The ginger closes his eyes and has a playful smirk on his lips.

“If I’ll never see the English evergreens I’m running to.” The ginger sing-songs making Akial laugh like it was their private joke. _Which it is because I’ve never even heard of “English” until now. Is that some local variety of Basic?_ Ben wonders and takes another sip. This time he’s able to hold his ground against the drink with some help from the Force. But just barely.

“What is _English_ —” Ben begins but is interrupted by a bang and a whirl of binary. _PFAASK!!!!_ Ben curses inwardly and then turns to see his third worst nightmare come to fruition. Artoo rolls into the bar, right through the hole Ben came through moments ago, beeping as angrily as he can.

[BEN, DID YOU FRY THE COMMS AGAIN!!!] Ben uses all of his willpower not to cringe in front of the ginger and the Jawa. _Yup, Artoo is pissed! But I couldn’t let him comm Master during my……lapse in sanity……or being a drama queen as the rest of the Padawans would say. Kriff them!_

“Wow, you own an astromech! I believe this is the first time I’ve seen an astromech in this region of space…” The ginger remark with his green eyes becoming brighter. _Oh, Force, he has such pretty eyes! And now Artoo is stabbing me in the knees…okay, act cool. Maybe he doesn’t understand binary._

“Actually, he belongs to my uncle, but I’m borrowing him for a bit.” Ben says while looking into the ginger’s pretty eyes. Artoo stabs, quite viciously, his thigh, which draws the ginger’s attention to the droid.

“Oh, does he want some fuel? I can siphon some fuel from my ship if he can process my crude oil!” Ben’s cheeks flare hot pink. _And my mind is in the gutter! Damn you, hormones! I mean why else would I find that hot? It’s not like the ginger is hot. He has no ass. Like seriously whenever someone say so-and-so has no ass, they should look at this ginger! And so should a doctor!_

[I don’t need any fuel. But I will gladly take you up on your offer since Anakin II here has—you don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?] Artoo sadly chirps when he sees the strange human just blink and smile at him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak….binary? I can speak a ton of tongues, but we rarely have droids out here, so I never learned binary. Hey, Akial, you lived in the Core? Do you understand what Artoo is saying?” Akial shakes his head, making Artoo shake his domed head too.

“He’ll take you up on your offer for fuel, but for our ship. And much later. He’s curious about what’s going on in this tiny………..bar.” Ben half-lies, making Artoo swivel his optic at him.

[Ben, just tell him that you need the fuel now and let’s go! The longer you’re away from the Praxeum, the longer your punishment will be!] Artoo reasons with him, but Ben has never been good at listening to reason. _Yeah, why else would I have a voice in my head encouraging me to kill my fellow classmates! Force, if Artoo knew, he would encourage me to never, ever return to the Republic, let alone the Praxeum…_

“Well, I and Akial, the bartending Jawa over there, are going to perform a song tonight! I hope you like it!” The ginger is practically bouncing up on the stage.

[Oh, Force, he’s an innocent. Ben, will you just tell him the truth before you hurt him!] Artoo whirls at Ben and ends it with another fierce poke.

“We’ll love it!” Ben gives a wolfish grin and completely ignores Artoo’s plea. Akial goes up to the stage and gestures for them to sit at one of the small benches in front of the stage. Ben comes bringing his shot glass and the bottle of Chiss vodka with him, while Artoo reluctantly wheels behind him. He sits at the bench closest to where the ginger is at; Artoo is at one end of the bench and watches the stage.

Akial goes to the stage and sits at the bench; his gloved fingers rest on the tiny black and white keys. The ginger tunes his guitar, letting his long, skeletal digits strum the cords a bit. Ben pours more vodka in the glass and takes another shot. Artoo lets out a beep of disapproval, but he does not stab Ben in the leg. Everyone is just waiting for the show to start.

Akial finally begins to play the piano; his gloved _fingers_ press into the keys and elicit a simple string of sounds. The ginger doesn’t strum his guitar like Ben wanted him too, but he opens his mouth after thirty seconds.

_“Wake up, you sleepy head,_

_Put on some clothes, get out of bed,_

_Put another log on the fire for me;_

_I've made some breakfast and coffee._

_Look out my window and what do I see_

_A crack in the sky and a hand reaching down to me._

_All the nightmares came today_

_And it looks as though they're here to stay.”_

Ben spills some of the vodka on the small bench as he pours another shot; his hands are shaking and his palms are sweaty. His face is warm and red. He’s terribly turned-on by the ginger’s singing.

_“What are we coming to?_

_No room for me, no fun for you._

_I think about a world to come_

_Where the books were found by the golden ones_

_Written in pain, written in awe_

_By a puzzled man who questioned_

_What we were here for._

_All the strangers came today_

_And it looks as though they're here to stay.”_

And the ginger finally plays his guitar, making more of Ben’s blood rush southward. Ben pours out another shot and slams it back. He likes to believe that the booze will chill his blood; it doesn’t.

_“Oh you Pretty Things,_

_Don’t you know you’re driving your_

_Mamas and Papas insane!_

_Oh you Pretty Things,_

_Don’t you know you’re driving your_

_Mamas and Papas insane!_

_Let me say it again,_

_You gotta make way for the Homo Superior!”_

The ginger throws in the sauciest grin at _Homo Superior_ , causing Ben to forget to breathe for a heartbeat. Ben proceeds to slam back two more shots after that. He still feels warm but fuzzier like love.

_“Look at your children,_

_See their faces in golden rays,_

_Don't kid yourself they belong to you,_

_They're the start of a coming race._

_The earth is a bitch,_

_We've finished our news,_

_Homo Sapiens have outgrown their use._

_All the strangers came today_

_And it looks as though they're here to stay.”_

Ben watches as the ginger’s face twitches between seriousness, sincerity, fun, and wit throughout the verse. And then sadness. Ben wonders what has made the ginger sad because it’s not the song; his green eyes turn eggshell blue.

_“Oh you Pretty Things,_

_Don't you know you're driving your_

_Mamas and Papas insane!_

_Oh you Pretty Things,_

_Don't you know you're driving your_

_Mamas and Papas insane!_

_Let me say it again,_

_You gotta make way for the Homo Superior!”_

The ginger’s voice and guitar end there, letting Akial and his keys finish out the song. Ben stands, on slightly shaky legs, and claps as hard as he can, giving the ginger the standing ovation he deserves. Artoo gives some high beeps and sways, his version of clapping.

“Such a kind audience, drinks on me!” The ginger flashes his white, slightly pointed teeth at them. Ben raises the vodka bottle to the ginger, signaling he has enough.

[You already drank half of that bottle; I hope you won’t add _flying under the influence_ to your list of crimes tonight.] Ben responds by sticking his tongue out at him.

“I’m starting to gather that those _boops_ he made weren’t good. Am I keeping you from something important?” Ben glares at Artoo before looking back at the ginger.

“Yeah……we have to go before…..I get even more in trouble.” Ben partially admits. The ginger frowns for a second and then turns to Akial.

“Could you take some of my ship’s fuel and put it in their ship? I’m sure that Artoo could provide assistance, right, Artoo?” Artoo trills, clearly happy with the ginger’s suggestion. Akial climbs down from the stage and gestures for Artoo to follow him; they go outback, leaving Ben alone with the ginger.

“Oh.” The ginger’s eyebrows go up like he’s surprised. _Oh poodoo, he can see my erection! Kriffing tight Padawan pants!_ Ben is trying in his hazy mind to come up with some kind of excuse to explain his erection. _Okay, I think I can blame it on the vodka. I can say it produces some weird allergic reaction—_

“How did I not notice this!” The ginger wraps his white, right hand around Ben’s short Padawan braid. The braid is barely long enough for Ben to create one loop; to him, his braid is more like the stump of a rat’s tail.

“The clothes, this braid, your droid, you’re a Jedi Padawan!” And the way the ginger excitedly figures him out causes Ben’s heart to flutter. _For once, being a Jedi doesn’t suck! If I was older, I could……no, I’m more likely to puke on his cute red boots. If only I wasn’t me……_

“And you flew all the way out here where there are no Jedi or even interesting Jedi ruins because…..you’re not happy being a Jedi, are you?” Ben looks away ashamed. All his life he’s been told that being a Jedi is a great honor. That Jedi are the heroes. _And that I have no choice because my parents and uncle are afraid of me being my grandfather. I’m strong in the Force like him, but my emotions are stronger. And the voice keeps telling me that my emotions give me power, but it just makes my family fear me. Abandon me………Fuck, my eyes burn!!_

“It’s okay if you don’t want to be a Jedi. You could do something else like go to university or join a privateering crew. Or be a model!” Ben’s impending sob turns into a laugh. He lets the bottle slip from his hand and it shatters on the mud-dusted floor. _Is he serious?!_

“I’m serious! You got the height and the looks! And you’re shaking your head. Force, what can I do to…..oh, I know. I’ll give you something precious of mine since you gave me your precious time. However, I must ask would you like something of me?” _If you mean your mostly fueled ship that I could use to run further away from the Jedi, then yeah I want to. Or your virginity, but that would be super creepy since you’re like twenty and I’m fourteen going to be fifteen in about six…wait, I don’t think he knows that._ Ben curses puberty and his genetics.

“I’m fourteen! I’ll be fifteen in like six standard months from now! So no sex stuff!” Ben blurts out gracelessly like a true Anakin Skywalker. He immediately covers his face with his large hands. _Did I just say that? DID I JUST SAY THAT!!!? I probably look twelve now to him! Who the Seven Sith Hells say “sex stuff”?! Someone who’s a stupid, stupid, stupid—_

“Oh, I thought you were like sixteen, which isn’t a bad thing if you want to go clubbing! But in most parts of the Unknown Regions, like in this sector, you are considered an adult at fourteen. However, since you are a minor under the uh- _supercilious_ laws of the New Republic, I won’t do that. Also, I was just going to offer you a kiss because I don't want to have sex with someone I barely know and who clearly doesn’t want to. So would you settle for a kiss?” Ben envies the ginger’s smoothness. _I used to be smooth like that; I wanted to be the King of Naboo, but mom and dad had other plans……what’s the use of pretty words and pretty gowns when you can swing a laser sword and dress like the chaste monk that you’re supposed to be!_

“……….Yes. Yes, I’d like a kiss.” Ben murmurs and a second later regrets his answer. _Shit, I don’t know how to kiss! I’ve seen holos and mom and dad do that, but I have no experience! Everyone at the Praxeum is like three years to ten years younger than me! I now regret not kissing that Zeltron cafarel at Uncle Lando’s place!_

And then he is kissed. It’s just a simple press of warm, chapped lips against his big, booze-slicked ones. No tongues. No sparks. No declarations of love after committing genocide.

It’s just nice. And happy.

“There. I hope that wasn’t too bad because you were my first!” The ginger softly whispers; his eyes are life-green again. And Ben nearly blurts out _bullshit_ because he cannot believe this wonderful, hot, kind, hot, strange, hot, nameless ginger has never been kiss—

[Okay, Ben, the ship has enough fuel for us to make it back to Yavin. But just barely. So thank this innocent, emaciated person for his generosity and let’s go!] And Ben wonders if he could destroy Artoo with the Force without his uncle knowing. _Nope. He hates me enough as it is._

“I guess you’ll be going now. Please, do take my words under consideration. You shouldn’t have to be something you’re not because your family expects you to. I should know.” The ginger smiles sadly at him. And Ben wants to tell him that they should run away together and let the universe find someone else to fill their expectations. But the ginger takes a step away from him.

“I will. But, pray tell me, what is your name?” Ben channels his rusty Amidala side; the side of him that he wants to embrace more than anything. Well, before he met the ginger.

“Armitage. I’d tell you my surname, but I don’t like it. And yours?” Ben almost says _Kylo_ because the voice’s name for him is far better than his own. And he barely considers himself a _Solo_. So he chooses a name that he wants instead of those given to him.

“Amidala. I’d tell you my forename, but I don’t like it.” Ben parallels back but adds a genuine smile. He hasn’t smiled in so long, not without the aid of the voice.

“Well, Amidala, you better go before Artoo adds another hole to your leggings!” Armitage teases and winks at him. Ben nods with a smile that will last him to the journey back to the Praxeum. Artoo makes no comment but eyes the ginger with concern.

[ _Skywalkers are so destructive when it comes to love._ ]

*

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Comments- Here are the links: 
> 
> Here is an image of Akial the Jawa bartender at Chu’la’s Den. In Legends, Akial was born during the waning years of the Galactic Republic and was the only Jawa who became a Jedi. He was a Jedi Consular and it’s unknown whether or not he died during Order 66, so I decided to take advantage of that and bring him into this story. Also, an interesting fact about him is that he hates it when people greet him with, “Utinni” a common word in the Jawaese because he could speak Basic without an accent: [Link](https://img.ifcdn.com/images/e2cda50bf6a0db08005c0203a567eb217dbe1e737273812e5cff37b67e6c49bd_1.jpg)
> 
> Here is the music along with the outfit that inspired this story. If you haven’t read any of my previous works, you’ll come to find out that I love associating David Bowie with Hux because I love me some strange gingers. And Hux possibly stealing Bowie’s costumes: [Link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBQ-S6njQQw)
> 
> Taking a break from my many series, I decided to write this little one-shot. You see I just wanted to write another Young Armitage and Young Ben story, except with Ben being fourteen and possibly a birthday away from turning into Kylo Ren while Armitage is eighteen and is about to graduate from the Academy in another birthday. And it’s about their First Kiss. So I just wanted to write something with Hux cheering up Ben and being a pfassking ginger weirdo that I imagine him to be. Also, this is the first time I’ve written Artoo in any of my works! And he gets to speak! Kind of. I was originally going to end with Ben flying back to the Praxeum, which is short for the Jedi Praxeum that Luke names his Jedi Academy in Legends/Expanded Universe, and then puking on Luke’s feet before passing out and then Artoo laughing at this. Instead, I kind of left it open for a possible continuation and for Artoo to have the last word. Or thought. 
> 
> Also, thanks for all of the kudos and comments on my stories so far!


End file.
